Boggarts Get Philisophical
by Addicts Inc
Summary: Which came first the wizard or the muggle? Where do vanished objects go? If no one is around, does a boggart still have a shape?


**Boggarts Get Philosophical**

There's that old question in muggle culture, which discusses the layman's grasp of philosophy and can often be heard late at night, as the drunks turn contemplative.

If a tree falls in a forest, but no one there to hear it – does it still make a sound?

Little did Harry Potter know, but there was a rough equivalent of the phrase in the wizarding world too. He was about to find out.

"No look," Harry said forcefully, slamming his bottle down on the bar counter, "wizards are in the minority. But there are more and more muggle-borns every year. Wizards are evolving from muggles!"

"You're still wrong." His long time friend, Ron Weasley objected. "There are millions of magical beings. Plants, animals, err, rocks, so clearly-"

"Magical rocks?" Harry scoffed.

"What did you think the Philosopher's Stone was?" Ron sniffed. "Anyway. Plants, animals, rocks. So clearly magic and muggle have been two entirely different groups of species, and are merging into to one another!"

That's right. They were sitting in a bar, arguing over who came first – the muggle or the magician? But this was not the wizarding equivalent of a deserted forest. That was the magical chicken verses egg.

"Evolution." Harry said, dismissing Ron's idea.

"Merging." Ron retorted.

"Evolution."

"Merging."

"Evolution."

"Mer – no. I'm not getting into this." Ron ripped the label off his bottle to emphasise that point. "We could go on all night. It's just like '_what do boggarts look like alone?_' or '_where do vanished objects go?_' There's no answer. And if I don't stop now, you never will."

"Ha!" Harry cried triumphantly. "Not only have I silenced you and therefore won, but also I know the answer that one!"

"Which one?" Ron asked thickly. He had been drinking, after all.

"Vanished objects." Harry replied arrogantly. "When you vanish an object, it enters a state of non-being. In other words, everything."

Ron goggled at him.

"Heard Minerva say it once." Harry shrugged. "Didn't think on it at the time, but I remembered it a few weeks later. I mean," He sat forward, "just think of all the things we've vanished over the years. Into everything."

Ron blanched. "Oh don't start mate." He grumbled. "Hermione's taken to vanishing Rosie's spew and nappies." Both men grimaced. Ron's newborn daughter was rather something.

"Ron…" Harry started after a pause.

"What?" He asked suspiciously. "You sound like you want something."

"What _does_ a Bogart look like when no one is around?"

Thinking back on it, it wasn't the most intelligent idea Harry had ever had. In his defence, he had been under the influence at the time, and although that specific time was now some weeks past, it had taken a while to set this idea in motion. Besides, the question just wouldn't leave Harry alone. What _does_ a bogart look like when no one is around? Harry pondered this as he sat on top of an unmade bed in Number Twelve. He was covered in his Invisibility Cloak. He had been doubtful if the Cloak would work on a boggart. But that Cloak could cheat Death; if it couldn't do it, nothing could.

There was a rather loud thunk from under the bed. Harry quietly slid off and crouched on the floor. Kretcher had reported that morning that a boggart had moved in under the bed in the blue bedroom, and Harry had been waiting for a sign that the boggart was still in residence. Wand in hand, and fully invisible, Harry slid under the bed.

Harry almost slid right back out again.

Lying on it's back, staring at the wooden slats of the bed, was the boggart. And it was not what Harry had been expecting. Maybe something black, smoky, indistinct, unseeable, unimaginable. Or maybe the Cloak wouldn't work and there would be a very squashed Dementor beneath the bed.

The boggart was a person. Maybe not a human person, but a person nonetheless. Male or female, Harry couldn't tell. Age, he couldn't decide. If Harry leant that way, it looked about seven, if he leant this way, it was fifty. It had mousy hair that fell in its eyes, which were big, brown and a bit bored. It had a wide nose, tilted eyes, and a skin tone that seemed to belong to every continent and yet none. It's hands were clasped over it's skinny chest, fiddling with a shapeless jumper in some sort of brown or beige. Faded jeans and socked feet completed the figure. And it just lay there. Looking male and female, young and old, eastern and western. The only definite characteristics Harry could attribute to it were big, doleful brown eyes, and boredom.

Harry slid out from under the bed. His Cloak slipped off slightly during the awkward movement. There was a thunk from behind him, and as he turned he saw the non-descript person flow out from under the bed like liquid smoke. And a Dementor loomed over him. Harry felt cold. There was a faint screaming in his ears. Now much more than just his parents.

"_Riddikulus_!"

The Dementor paused it's advance, and one glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed hand reached out of the liquid black robes. The Dementor bowed its head, and pulled its robe off. Revealing a slight person. Who was neither male nor female, young or old, eastern or western.

The boggart blinked at Harry owlishly. Then it held out its hands and looked at them blandly. Realising what was going on, the boggart snarled, and fled past Harry and out of the bedroom door.

A few seconds later, there was a scream as it rounded a corner and Ginny saw herself standing, distressed, desolate and all alone.

"Are you alright, Ginny?" He yelled, coming to his senses and finding his girlfriend leaning against the wall, hand on heart and breathing heavily.

"Yeah." She said slowly. "Took me by surprise."

"I found a boggart, by the way." He was feeling inordinately cheerful.

"I noticed." She replied dryly. "Going to tell me what a boggart's greatest secret is? Or didn't it work?"

"Nah," Harry grinned, "it worked. But I've got to do something first." He pecked her on the cheek. "Back in half an hour."

"Are you sure, Harry?" Luna Lovegood asked quite seriously, quill in hand.

"Definitely." Harry assured her. "Saw it myself. And yes, I know, it should have turned into what I feared most, but luckily, I happen to own the best Indivisibility Cloak in the world." He glanced down at the page full of notes. "Have you got a detailed enough description?" He asked, concerned.

Luna nodded slowly. "You have such an expressive face, Harry, I could hear more description than mere words."

"Of course" Harry smiled. "Say hello to Rolf, won't you?"

"Oh, are you leaving so soon, Harry?"

"Got places to be Luna. But don't worry, I won't be telling any other media about this." He smiled as he stood and threw his cloak on. "It's a Quibbler exclusive."

"I had hoped you would stay and talk. We haven't seen much of each other in these past few years." Luna said wistfully. "I'll have the first edition owled over as soon as I can."

"You're a star."

"Hey, Remus." Harry sat down on the soggy grass in front of a white headstone in Godric's Hollow. "I bet you don't remember this, but the first Defence lesson you taught me was about boggarts. You refused to let me take our boggart on. I think you changed your mind a little later on in the school year." He smiled. "I'm only here for a minute. I just had something to tell you. Did you ever hear the wizarding saying; '_if a boggart's alone, what does it look like?_' Well, you asked us that too. You see, the thing is, I've sort of gone and found out." He scratched his forehead. "And you'll never guess what, Moony. It's something no one, in all of time and space, would ever be afraid of…"


End file.
